


The Space We Leave Behind

by gozenichiji



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss of Parent(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27260881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gozenichiji/pseuds/gozenichiji
Summary: His time running out, he knows he'll be unable to see her grow up. Alec Hardy films a series of videos for his daughter, Daisy, to watch throughout milestones in her life.
Relationships: Daisy Hardy & Ellie Miller
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	The Space We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadlatimer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadlatimer/gifts).



> It's been so long since I've made pain, but here's something that has been on my mind, and might make into a full-length fic soon! I cannot thank sadlatimer enough, who'se helped me flesh this out <3

She can recall a distant memory from her past: it was afternoon and outside the school gates, there he was with his arms outstretched. She ran up to him and he'd hugged her as if it was their last

Grey bleakness and thick clouds loom over Daisy Hardy ominously, rain droplets pattering on the gravestones by the grass next to the chapel: she couldn't bring herself to stay behind, alone in her thoughts, her gaze forced to focus on the casket. It was the first time she had seen him in months. It's been so long, she nearly couldn't recognize him, almost forgot what he looked like. 

It had been three days since. Yet none a tear was shed. 

Frustrated at the unclear churning of emotions, a pit growing in her stomach, chills seeping from her shoulders, she finds herself trudging through damp grass. Mud crunches under the soles of her shoes, making audible the turmoil of guilt, frustration, confusion: It could be said that she was stuck in her own world for a moment. She turns as soft footsteps make it behind her—brown curls, warm features etched on her face, cheeks damp with tears. "Daisy, I'm so sorry," Ellie says, a hand reaching out, but Daisy declines, turning away. Her heart feels heavy: she shouldn't have been brought into this. She shouldn't have been there that Friday, sitting on their couch to tell them that he's;

"Why didn't he tell me anything? Not even let me see him once." She bitterly remarks, eyes clenched tightly as heat rushed there. Her heart races, seeing Ellie purse her lips as she rummages through her purse. She produces a flash drive: Plain, it was attached to a chainring. A light grey, its brand ink washed out: ordinary. Ellie takes Daisy's hand in hers, pressing the thin piece of metal on her palm. 

"From the start, he.. knew he didn't have much time, Daisy." 

"What?" A hand makes it across her cheek, forcing her eyes to look from the flash drive to her gaze. Sincere. 

"So he-" Ellie reminisces affectionately. "Knew he would never see you grow up." Her thumb wipes a tear that falls down Daisy's cheek. "So he filmed these videos, now that he can always be with you." 

"Your father, asked me to give you this." She feels a pit grow in her stomach, a cold crawling up her body as she wraps her arms around Ellie. 

"Was he hurting, when he—" 

"There wasn't any pain. He's alright now, okay? Just know that," She nods against Ellie's chest. "Just know that he's somewhere, watching over you. You're not alone, Daisy." 

"I just wish I could hear those from _him_." She wishes. The wind, salty, brushes across her coat. It stings her eyes.

It is deep into the night as the clock ticks agonizingly slowly. Daisy feels the pillowcase scrape her cheeks, a numb chill preventing tears to fall. Her eyes burned—that's what it seemed to do for so long—denial that he was actually gone. Gone, too, were her hopes that one day he'd show up at their door, and that they'd be a family again. 

"This is Dad, signing off. I love you, darling." The voicemail on her phone—she'd repeated it a number of times she couldn't count—played.

And in that instance, she realized she didn't know what to do. 

"Please," Her heart aches as his voice falters, "-give me a call."

Under the blanket, she hugged her pillow tightly, tears dampening the cushion as she shook with sobs; for a split second, she thought he'd open the door, rush to her side. Once again missing his comforting embrace, a stake is driven deeper in her heart when she knows she'll never hold him again. Buried in her fist—just as it has been since that tear-filled afternoon—was the flash drive, its sharp edges digging into her palm. Eyes stung with salt, struggling to open, she moves towards the lamp on her nightstand, opening her hand to examine the flash drive: dull, its paint shining faintly from use.

Another tug at her heart: it wouldn't leave, she knew, until she opened it.

In the dim of her room, she awkwardly navigates to her desk, opening her laptop: the brightness attacks her red-rimmed eyes as she squints, accessing the file manager with one hand on the trackpad, inserting the flash drive into the USB port with the other. 

[FOR_DAISY : E] appears on the left of the screen. She clicks, thumbnails a list with their titles by the side. 

"Watch this when you graduate highschool." was the first video. It's date read: April 23, 2017. Only months before he left.

The titles of the rest seemed arbitrary. Watch when you get your first job. Watch when you get into a fight. After long since she recalls, she laughed, knowing—and missing—soppy words of affection, of motivation, that she'd failed to appreciate. 

The dates, days, weeks, months, passed; the list of files stopped: its final video "I'm sorry I never told the truth.' A reminder that his presence in her life would remain painfully finite from now on. She looked onto the blurry thumbnail with horror, unable to comprehend that the form on what she could make out was a bed was him. She could hardly recognize him, and he'd never let her know. 

A weight seemed to make it back in her stomach as she saw the date: June 18, 2017. Only two days before she'd known at all that his time was running—and now had ran out.

Her eyes couldn't leave the thumbnail; denial that it was him at all, that there was no need for these videos, and that this was the final moments of his life. She should've been there, and these words would be spoken to her in a whisper, immortalized in the confines of her memory rather than a camera. She should've been there, holding him close; yet he used up all his energy to film these for her. They hadn't talked, and she'd left him alone as his heart gave out.

 _Over time, it only got worse... I'm sorry, Daisy. He passed away this morning._ And they'd been left with those words, sincere, yet detached. There was no point now, but maybe this video could allow her to have a final goodbye. Closure. 

_How did I not know?_

"Please... this isn't fair—" She lets out, her voice faltering, wanting to ask why he never told her anything, why she wasn't there, why she hadn't bothered to check on him. Her face burns, tears pattering on the laptop's keypad. Why he left her alone, again and again. She sinks from her desk chair onto the ground. Trembling with sobs, she brings her knees closer as she gasps for breath.


End file.
